Книга - A Life-Saving Reunion

A Life-Saving Reunion
Alison Roberts


A love worth fighting for…Cardiologist Thomas Wolfe’s speciality is mending broken hearts, but no one knows how much his own still hurts five years on…Torn apart by the sadness of losing their little girl, Tom and his ex-wife, transplant surgeon Rebecca Scott, are virtually strangers, until they’re thrown together again at Paddington’s to save the life of another very special little girl. Can a miracle surgery prove that it’s never too late to give love a second chance?Paddington Children’s HospitalCaring for children - and captivating hearts!







A love worth fighting for...

Cardiologist Thomas Wolfe’s specialty is mending broken hearts, but no one knows how much his own still hurts five years on...

Torn apart by the sadness of losing their little girl, Tom and his ex-wife, transplant surgeon Rebecca Scott, are virtually strangers, until they’re thrown together again at Paddington’s to save the life of another very special little girl. Can a miracle surgery prove that it’s never too late to give love a second chance?


Dear Reader (#u5be76022-c19d-53bb-b422-f0dea93878b1),

How far back can you remember?

My earliest memory is of a pair of red shoes that I had when I was three years old—I still love red shoes!—and my love of big ships came from travelling from New Zealand to England when I was five years old. It took six weeks and I loved every minute of it!

I lived in London for eighteen months. My dad, who was a doctor, had a job at Hammersmith Hospital, and we lived in a basement apartment in Prince Albert Road—so close to the zoo that we could hear the animals at night sometimes. I started school there, and my favourite place to play was on Primrose Hill.

Setting a story in a place that was such an important part of my early life was such a treat and I even got to play in Regent’s Park and on Primrose Hill again! :)

Working with my talented colleagues at Mills & Boon Medical Romance has also been a treat. The threads in this series are very strong and so emotional that this was, at times, a heart-wrenching story to write.

What a privilege to bring those threads together and complete, not only a story that gives two people the chance of a love that will last for the rest of their lives, but also to celebrate the finale of all the other stories and the resolution of the conflict that runs through the Paddington Children’s Hospital series.

Happy reading!

With love,

Alison


ALISON ROBERTS is a New Zealander, currently lucky enough to be living in the south of France. She is also lucky enough to write for the Mills & Boon Medical Romance line. A primary school teacher in a former life, she is also a qualified paramedic. She loves to travel and dance, drink champagne, and spend time with her daughter and her friends.

Books by Alison Roberts

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Christmas Eve Magic

Their First Family Christmas

Wildfire Island Docs

The Nurse Who Stole His Heart

The Fling That Changed Everything

A Little Christmas Magic

Always the Midwife

Daredevil, Doctor…Husband?

Mills & Boon Cherish

The Wedding Planner and the CEO

The Baby Who Saved Christmas

The Forbidden Prince

Visit the Author Profile page

at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.


A Life-Saving Reunion

Alison Roberts






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Contents

Cover (#u838b92e9-7d41-5b25-b62a-acd031968d51)

Back Cover Text (#u274e45ea-5eab-5577-877a-e3fd0d9ee479)

Dear Reader (#u1705cd0d-7136-5946-b9a5-5687e09826c9)

About the Author (#ub6061991-3ac3-5aed-9cfe-00bff7fcf8bc)

Title Page (#uf6fd54d6-3b0d-5b07-a0e9-e0da0085583a)

CHAPTER ONE (#u91e2c097-a7a2-538a-976b-417d7912cb14)

CHAPTER TWO (#u0cb85ff4-0e1f-5f44-9813-eca95cafa636)

CHAPTER THREE (#u2f747074-fc89-5cab-bb97-a424c5e82b84)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#u5be76022-c19d-53bb-b422-f0dea93878b1)

HE’D KNOWN THIS wasn’t going to be easy.

He’d known that some cases were going to be a lot harder than others.

But Dr Thomas Wolfe had also known that, after the very necessary break, he had been ready to go back to the specialty that had always been his first love.

Paediatric cardiology.

Mending broken little hearts...

And some not so little, of course. Paddington Children’s Hospital cared for an age range from neonates to eighteen-year-olds. After dealing only with adults for some years now, Thomas was probably more comfortable interacting with the adolescents under his care here but he’d more than rediscovered his fascination with babies in the last few months. And the joy of the children who were old enough to understand how sick they were, brave kids who could teach a lot of people things about dealing with life.

Or kids that touched your heart and made doing the best job you possibly could even more of a priority. It had to be carefully controlled, mind you. If you let yourself get too close, it could not only affect your judgement, but it could also end up threatening to destroy you.

And Thomas Wolfe wasn’t about to let that happen again.

He had to pause for a moment, standing in the central corridor of Paddington’s cardiology ward, right beside the huge, colourful cut-outs of Pooh Bear and friends that decorated this stretch of wall between the windows of the patients’ rooms. Tigger seemed to be grinning down at him—mid-bounce—as Thomas pretended to read a new message on his pager.

This had become the hardest case since he’d returned to Paddington’s. A little girl who made it almost impossible to keep a safe distance. Six-year-old Penelope Craig didn’t just touch the hearts of people who came to know her. She grabbed it with both hands and squeezed so hard it was painful.

It wasn’t that he needed a moment to remind himself how important it was to keep that distance, because he had been honing those skills from the moment he’d stepped back through the doors of this astonishing, old hospital and they were already ingrained enough to be automatic. He just needed to make sure the guardrails were completely intact because if there was a weak area, Penny would be the one to find it and push through.

And that couldn’t be allowed to happen.

With a nod, as if he’d read an important message on his pager, Thomas lifted his head and began moving towards the nearest door. There was no hesitation as he tapped to announce his arrival and then entered the room with a smile.

His smile faltered for a split second as Julia Craig, Penny’s mother, caught his gaze with the unspoken question that was always there now.

Is today the day?

His response was as silent as the query.

No. Today’s not the day.

The communication was already well practised enough to be no slower than the blink of an eye. Penny certainly hadn’t noticed.

‘Look, Dr Wolfe! I can dance.’

The fact that Penny was out of her bed meant that today was one of her better ones. She still had her nasal cannula stuck in place with a piece of sticky tape on each cheek, the long plastic tube snaking behind her to where it connected with the main oxygen supply, but she was on her feet.

No, she was actually standing on her tippy-toes, her arms drooping gracefully over the frill of her bright pink tutu skirt. And then she tried to turn in a circle but the tubing got in the way and she lost her balance and sat down with a suddenness that might have upset many children.

Penny just laughed.

‘Oops.’ Julia scooped her daughter into her arms as the laughter turned to gasping.

‘I can...’ Penny took another gulp of air. ‘I can...do it. Watch!’

‘Next time.’ Julia lifted Penny onto her bed. ‘Dr Wolfe is here to see you and he’s very busy. He’s got lots of children to look after today.’

‘But only one who can dance.’ Thomas smiled. ‘Just like a Ballerina Bear.’

Penny’s smile could light up a room. Big grey eyes turned their attention to the television on the wall, where her favourite DVD was playing and a troupe of fluffy bears wearing tutus were performing what seemed to be a cartoon version of Swan Lake.

‘I just want to listen to your heart, if that’s okay.’ Thomas unhooked his stethoscope from around his neck.

Penny nodded but didn’t turn away from the screen. She lifted her arms above her head and curled her finger as she tried to mimic the movements of the dancing bears.

Thomas noted the bluish tinge to his small patient’s lips. Putting the disc of his stethoscope against a chest scarred by more than one major surgery, he listened to a heart that was trying its best to pump enough blood around a small body but failing a little more each day.

The new medication regime was helping but it wasn’t enough. Penny had been put on the waiting list for a heart transplant weeks ago and the job of Thomas and his team was to keep her healthy for long enough that the gift of a long life might be possible. It was a balancing act of drugs to help her heart pump more effectively and control the things that made it harder, like the build-up of fluid in her tissues and lungs. Limiting physical activity was unfortunately a necessity now, as well, and to move further than this room required that Penny was confined to a wheelchair.

The odds of a heart that was a good match becoming available in time weren’t great but, as heartbreaking as that was, it wasn’t why this particular case was proving so much more difficult than other patients he had on the waiting list for transplants.

Penny was a direct link to his past.

The past he’d had to walk away from in order to survive.

* * *

He’d met Penny more than six years ago. Before she was even born, in fact—when ultrasound tests had revealed that the baby’s heart had one of the most serious congenital defects it could have, with the main pumping chamber too small to be effective. She’d had her first surgery when she was only a couple of weeks old and he’d been the doctor looking after her both before and after that surgery.

He’d spent a lot of time with Penny’s parents, Julia and Peter Craig, and he’d felt their anguish as acutely as if it had been his own.

That was what becoming a parent yourself could do to you...

Gwen had only been a couple of years older than Penny so she would have been eight now. Would she have fallen in love with the Ballerina Bears, too? Be going to ballet lessons, perhaps, and wearing a pink tutu on top of any other clothing, including her pyjamas?

The thought was no more than a faint, mental jab. Thomas had known that working with children again might stir up the contents of that locked vault in his head and his heart but he knew how to deal with it.

He knew to step away from the danger zone.

He stepped away from the bed, too. ‘It’s a lovely day, today,’ he said, looping the stethoscope around his neck again. ‘Maybe Mummy can take you outside into the sunshine for a bit.’

A nurse came into the room as he spoke and he glanced at the kidney dish in one hand and a glass of juice in the other. ‘After you’ve had all your pills.’

‘Are you in a rush?’ Julia was on her feet, as well. ‘Have you got a minute?’ She glanced at her daughter, who was still entranced by the dancing bears on the screen. ‘I’ll be back in a minute, Penny. Be a good girl and swallow all those pills for Rosie, okay?’

‘’kay.’ Penny nodded absently.

‘Of course she will,’ Rosie said. ‘And then I want to know all the names of those bears, again. Who’s the one with the sparkly blue fur?’

‘Sapphire,’ Thomas could hear Penny saying as he held the door open for Julia. If she had concerns about her daughter’s condition, they needed to go somewhere else to discuss it. ‘She’s my favourite. And the green one’s Emerald and...the red one’s Ruby...’

The relatives’ room a little further down the corridor was empty. Thomas closed the door behind them and gestured for Julia to take one of the comfortable chairs available.

‘Are you sure you’ve got time?’

‘Of course.’

‘I just... I just wanted to ask you more about what you said yesterday. I tried to explain to Peter last night but I think I made it sound a lot worse than...than you did...’ Julia was fighting tears now.

Thomas nudged the box of tissues on the coffee table closer and Julia gratefully pulled several out.

‘You mean the ventricular assist device?’

Julia nodded, the wad of tissues pressed to her face.

‘You said...you said it would be the next step, when...if...things got worse.’

Thomas kept his tone gentle. ‘They sound scary, I know, but it’s something that’s often used as a bridge to transplant. For when heart failure is resistant to medical therapy, the way Penny’s is becoming.’

‘And you said it might make her a lot better in the meantime?’

‘It can improve circulation and can reverse some of the other organ damage that heart failure can cause.’

‘But it’s risky, isn’t it? It’s major surgery...’

‘I wouldn’t suggest it if the risks of going on as we are were less than the risks of the surgery. I know Penny’s having a better day today but you already know how quickly that can change and it gets a little more difficult to control every time.’

Julia blew her nose. ‘I know. That last time she had to go to intensive care, we thought...we thought we were going to lose her...’

‘I know.’ Thomas needed to take in a slow breath. To step away mentally and get back onto safe ground. Professional ground.

‘A VAD could make Penny more mobile again and improve her overall condition so that when a transplant becomes available, the chances of it being successful are that much higher. It’s a longer term solution to control heart failure and they can last for years, but yes, it is a major procedure. The device is attached to the heart and basically takes over the work of the left ventricle by bypassing it. Let’s make a time for me to sit down with both you and Peter and I can talk you through it properly.’

Julia had stopped crying. Her eyes were wide.

‘What do you mean by “more mobile”? Would we be able to take her home again while we wait?’

‘I would hope so.’ Thomas nodded. ‘She would be able to go back to doing all the things she would normally do at home. Maybe more, even.’

Julia had her fingers pressed against her lips. Her voice was no more than a whisper. ‘Like...like dancing lessons, maybe?’

Oh...he had to look away from that hope shining through the new tears in Julia’s eyes. The wall of the relatives’ room was a much safer place.

‘I’ll tell Peter when he comes in after work. How soon can we make an appointment to talk about it?’

‘Talk to Maria on the ward reception desk. She seems to know my diary as well as I do.’ He got to his feet, still not risking a direct glance at Julia’s face.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Julia turn her head. Was she wondering what had caught his attention?

He was being rude. He turned back to his patient’s mother but now Julia was staring at the wall.

‘My life seems to be full of teddy bears,’ she said.

Thomas blinked at the random comment. ‘Oh? You mean the dancing kind?’

‘And here, look. This is about the Teddy Bears’ Picnic in Regent’s Park. Well, Primrose Hill, actually. For transplant families.’

The poster had only been a blur of colour on the wall but now Thomas let his gaze focus.

And then he wished he hadn’t.

Right in the middle of a bright collage of photos was one of a surgeon, wearing green theatre scrubs, with a small child in her arms. The toddler was wearing only a nappy so the scar down the centre of her chest advertised her major cardiac surgery. The angelic little girl, with her big, blue eyes and mop of golden curls, was beaming up at her doctor and the answering smile spoke of both the satisfaction of saving a small life and a deep affection for her young patient.

‘That’s Dr Scott,’ Julia said. ‘Rebecca. But you know that, of course.’

Of course he did.

‘She did the surgery on Penny when she was a baby—but you know that too. How silly of me. You were her doctor back then, too.’ Julia made an apologetic face. ‘So much has happened since then, it becomes a bit of a blur, sometimes.’

‘Yes.’ Thomas was still staring at Rebecca’s face. Those amazing dark, chocolate-coloured eyes which had been what had caught his attention first, all those years ago, when he’d spotted her in one of his classes at medical school. The gleaming, straight black hair that was wound up into a knot on the back of her head, the way it always was when she was at work.

That smile...

He hadn’t seen her look that happy since...well, since before their daughter had died.

She certainly hadn’t shown him even a hint of a smile like that in the months since he’d returned to Paddington’s.

Had Julia not realised they had been husband and wife at the time they’d shared Penny’s care in the weeks after her birth?

Well, why would she? They had kept their own names to avoid any confusion at work and they’d always been completely professional during work hours. Friendly professional, though—nothing like the strained relationship between them now. And Julia and Peter had had far more on their minds than how close a couple of people were amongst the team of medics trying to save their tiny daughter.

‘She was just a surgeon, back then.’

Thomas had to bite back a contradiction. Rebecca had never been ‘just’ a surgeon. She’d been talented and brilliant and well on the way to a stellar career from the moment she’d graduated from medical school.

‘Isn’t it amazing that she’s gone on to specialise in transplants?’

‘Mmm.’ Sometimes the traumatic events that happened in life could push you in a new direction but Thomas couldn’t say that out loud, either. If Julia didn’t know about the personal history that might have prompted the years of extra study to add a new field of expertise to Rebecca’s qualifications, he was the last person who would enlighten her.

Sharing something like that was an absolute no-no when you were keeping a professional distance from patients and their families. And from your ex-wife.

‘It’s amazing for us, anyway,’ Julia continued. ‘Because it means that she’ll be able to do Penny’s transplant if we’re lucky enough to find a new heart for her...’ Her voice wobbled. ‘It might be us going to one of these picnics next year. I’ve heard of them. Did you see the programme on telly a while back, when they had all those people talking about how terrible it would be if Paddington’s got closed?’

‘I don’t think I did.’ The media coverage over the threatened closure had become so intense it had been hard to keep up with it all, especially since Sheikh Al Khalil had announced last month that he would be donating a substantial sum of money following his daughter’s surgery.

‘Well, they had a clip from last year’s picnic. They were talking to a mother who had lost her child through some awful accident and she had made his organs available for transplant. She said she’d never been brave enough to try and make contact with the families of the children who had received them, but she came to the picnic and imagined that someone there might be one of them. She watched them running their races and playing games and saw how happy they were. And how happy their families were...’

Julia had to stop because she was crying again, even though she was smiling. Thomas was more than relieved. He couldn’t have listened any longer. He was being dragged into a place he never went these days if he could help it.

‘I really must get on with my rounds,’ he said.

‘Of course. I’m so sorry...’ Julia had another handful of tissues pressed to her nose as he opened the door of the relatives’ room so she could step out before him.

‘It’s not a problem,’ Thomas assured her. ‘I’m always here to talk to you. And Peter, of course. Let’s set up that appointment to talk about the ventricular assist device very soon.’

Julia nodded, but her face crumpled again as her thoughts clearly returned to something a lot less happy than the thought of attending a picnic to celebrate the lives that had been so dramatically improved by the gift of organ donation. The urge to put a hand on her shoulder to comfort her and offer reassurance was so strong, he had to curl his fingers into a fist to stop his hand moving.

‘Um...’ Thomas cleared his throat. ‘Would you like me to find someone to sit with you for a bit?’

Julia shook her head. ‘I’ll be fine. You go. I’ll just get myself together a bit more before I go back to Penny. I don’t want her to see that I’ve been crying.’

* * *

Even a view of only the woman’s back was enough to advertise her distress, but it was the body language of the man standing so rigidly beside her that caught Dr Rebecca Scott’s attention instantly as she stepped out of the elevator to head towards the cardiology ward at the far end of the corridor.

A sigh escaped her lips and her steps slowed a little as she fought the impulse to spin around and push the button to open the lift doors again. To go somewhere else. It wasn’t really an option. She had a patient in the cardiology ward who was on the theatre list for tomorrow morning and she knew that the parents were in need of a lot of reassurance. This small window of time in her busy day was the only slot available so she would just have to lift her chin and deal with having her path cross with that of her ex-husband.

How sad was it that she’d known it was Thomas simply because of the sense of disconnection with the person he was talking to?

He might have returned to work at Paddington’s but the Thomas Wolfe that Rebecca had known and loved hadn’t come back.

Oh, he still looked the same. Still lean and fit and so tall that the top of her head would only reach his shoulder. He still had those eyes that had fascinated her right from the start because they could change colour depending on his mood. Blue when he was happy and grey when he was angry or worried or sad.

They had been the colour of a slate roof on a rainy day that first time they had seen each other again after so long and she hadn’t noticed any difference since. He was as aloof with her as he was with his patients and their families.

She’d known it wasn’t going to be easy. She’d known that some cases were going to be a lot harder than others but, when she’d heard that he’d agreed to come back and work at Paddington’s, Rebecca had believed that she could cope. She’d wondered if they could, in fact, put some of the past behind them and salvage some kind of friendship, even.

That hope had been extinguished the first time their paths had crossed when nothing had been said. When there had been no more warmth in his gaze than if she’d been any other colleague he’d previously worked with.

Less warmth, probably.

The old Thomas had never been like that. He’d had an easy grin that was an invitation for colleagues to stop and chat for a moment or two. He would joke and play with the children in his care and he’d always had a knack for connecting with parents—especially after he’d become a father himself. They loved him because he could make them feel as if they had the best person possible fighting in their corner. Someone who understood exactly how hard it was and would care for their child as if it were his own.

This version of Thomas might have the same—or likely an improved—ability to deliver the best medical care but he was a shell of the man he had once been.

Part of Rebecca’s heart was breaking for a man who’d taught himself to disconnect so effectively from the people around him but, right now, an even bigger part was angry. Maybe it had been building with every encounter they’d had over the last few months when they had discussed the care of their patients with a professional respect that bordered on coldness.

Calling each other ‘Thomas’ and ‘Rebecca’ with never a single slip into the ‘Tom’ and ‘Becca’ they had always been to each other. Discussing test results and medications and surgery as if nobody involved had a personal life or people that loved them enough to be terrified.

It was bad enough that he’d destroyed their marriage by withdrawing into this cold, hard shell but she could deal with that. She’d had years of practice, after all. To see the effect it was having on others made it far less acceptable. This was Penny’s mother he’d been talking to, for heaven’s sake. They’d both known Julia since she’d been pregnant with her first—and only—child. They’d both been there for her a thousand per cent over the first weeks and months of her daughter’s life. He’d been the old Thomas, then.

And then he’d walked out. He hadn’t been there for the next lot of surgery Penny had had. He hadn’t shared the joy of appointments over the next few years that had demonstrated how well the little girl had been and how happy and hopeful her family was. He hadn’t been there to witness the fear returning as her condition had deteriorated again but now he was back on centre stage and he was acting as if Penelope Craig was just another patient. As if he had no personal connection at all...

How could he be walking away from Julia like that, when she was so upset she had buried her face in a handful of tissues, ducking back into the relatives’ room for some privacy?

Rebecca’s forward movement came to a halt as Thomas came closer. She knew she was glaring at him but, for once, she wasn’t going to hide anything personal behind a calm, professional mask.

‘What’s going on?’ she asked, her tone rather more crisp than she had expected. ‘Why is Julia so upset?’

Thomas shifted his gaze, obviously checking that nobody was within earshot. A group of both staff and visitors were waiting for an elevator. Kitchen staff went past, pushing a huge stainless steel trolley. An orderly pushing a bed came towards them, heading for the service lift, presumably taking the small patient for an X-ray or scan. The bed had balloons tied to the end, one of them a bright yellow smiley face. A nurse walked beside the bed, chatting to the patient’s mother. She saw Rebecca and smiled. Then her gaze shifted to Thomas and the smile faded a little.

He didn’t seem to notice. He tilted his head towards the group of comfortable chairs near the windows that were, remarkably, free of anyone needing a break or waiting to meet someone. Far enough away from the elevator doors to allow for a private conversation.

Fair enough. It would be unprofessional to discuss details of a case where it could be overheard. Rebecca followed his lead but didn’t sit down on one of the chairs. Neither did Thomas.

‘I was going to send you a memo,’ he said. ‘I’m meeting both Julia and Peter in the next day or two to discuss the option of Penelope receiving a ventricular assist device. It’s only a matter of time before her heart failure becomes unmanageable.’

‘Okay...’ Rebecca caught her bottom lip between her teeth. No wonder Julia had been upset. A VAD was a major intervention. But she trusted Thomas’s judgement and it would definitely buy them some time.

His gaze touched hers for just a heartbeat as he finished speaking but Rebecca found herself staring at his face, waiting for him to look at her again. Surely he could understand the effect of what he’d told Julia? How could he have walked away from her like that and left her alone?

But Thomas seemed to be scanning the view of central London that these big, multi-paned old windows provided. He could probably see the busy main roads with their red, double-decker buses and crowds of people waiting at intersections or trying to hail a black cab. Or maybe his eye had been drawn to the glimpse of greenery in the near distance from the treetops of Regent’s Park.

‘You’ve had experience with VADs? Are you happy to do the surgery?’

‘Yes, of course. It’s not a procedure that happens very often but I’ve been involved with a couple. Do you want me to come to the meeting with Penny’s family and discuss it with them?’

‘Let’s wait until it’s absolutely necessary. I can tell them what’s involved and why it’s a good option.’

Rebecca let her gaze shift to the windows, as well. She stepped closer, in fact, and looked down. The protesters were still in place, with their placards, outside the gates. They’d been there for months now, ever since the threat of closure had been made public. It hadn’t just been the staff who had been so horrified that the land value of this prime central London spot was so high that the board of governors was actually considering selling up and merging Paddington Children’s Hospital with another hospital, Riverside, that was outside the city limits.

Thanks to the incredible donation a month or so ago from Sheikh Idris Al Khalil, who’d brought his daughter to Paddington’s for treatment, the threat of closure was rapidly retreating. The astonishing amount of money in appreciation of such a successful result for one child had sparked off an influx of new donations and the press were onside with every member of staff, every patient and every family who were so determined that they would stay here. Even so, the protesters were not going to let the momentum of their campaign slow down until success was confirmed. The slogans on their placards were as familiar as the street names around here now.

Save Our Hospital

Kids’ Health Not Wealth

The knowledge that that announcement couldn’t be far off gave Rebecca a jolt of pleasure. Things were looking up. For Paddington’s and maybe for Penny, too.

‘It is a good option.’ She nodded. ‘I’d love to see her out of that wheelchair for a while.’

‘It would put her at the top of the waiting list for a new heart, too. Hopefully a donor heart will become available well before we run into any complications.’

The wave of feeling positive ebbed, leaving Rebecca feeling a kind of chill run down her spine. Her muscles tensed in response. Her head told her that she should murmur agreement and then excuse herself to go and see her patient, maybe adding a polite request to be kept informed of any developments.

Her heart was sending a very different message. An almost desperate cry asking where the hell had the man gone that Thomas used to be? Was there even a fragment of him left inside that shell?

‘Yes,’ she heard herself saying, her voice weirdly low and fierce. ‘Let’s keep our fingers crossed that some kid somewhere, who’s about the same age as Penny, has a terrible accident and their parents actually agree to have him—or her—used for spare parts.’

She could feel the shock wave coming from Thomas. She was shocked herself.

It was a pretty unprofessional thing for a transplant surgeon to say but this had come from a very personal place. A place that only a parent who had had to make that heartbreaking decision themselves could understand.

She was also breaking the unspoken rule that nothing personal existed between herself and Thomas any more. And she wasn’t doing it by a casually friendly comment like ‘How are you?’ or ‘Did you have a good weekend?’ No. She was lobbing a verbal grenade into the bunker that contained their most private and painful history.

In public. During working hours.

What was she thinking? Being angry at the distance Thomas was keeping himself from his patients and their parents was no excuse. Especially when she knew perfectly well why he had become like that. Or was that the real issue here? That she had known and tried so hard to help and had failed so completely?

‘Sorry,’ she muttered. ‘But, for me, it’s never an anonymous donor organ that becomes available. I have to go and collect them so I get involved in both sides of the story.’

Thomas’s voice was like ice. He really didn’t want to be talking about this.

‘You choose to do it,’ he said.

He didn’t even look at her as he fired the accusation. He was staring out of the damned window again. Rebecca found that her anger hadn’t been erased by feeling ashamed of her outburst.

‘And you choose to shut your eyes.’ The words came out in a whisper that was almost a hiss. ‘To run away. Like you always did.’

There was no point in saying anything else. Maybe there was nothing more to say, anyway.

So Rebecca turned and walked away.


CHAPTER TWO (#u5be76022-c19d-53bb-b422-f0dea93878b1)

‘THE LINE HAS been crossed.’

‘Oh?’ Thomas had opened the file he needed on his laptop. He clicked on options to bring his PowerPoint presentation up and sync it to the wall screen he had lowered over the whiteboard in this small meeting room. ‘What line is that, Rosie?’

He certainly knew what line had been crossed as far as he was concerned. It had been a week since Rebecca’s astonishing outburst and he still hadn’t recovered from the shock of how incredibly unprofessional she had been.

What if someone had overheard? Members of the press were still all over any story coming out of Paddington’s. Imagine a headline that revealed that the leading transplant surgeon of Paddington Children’s Hospital described her donor organs as ‘spare parts’?

Anyone else could well have taken the matter elsewhere. Filed a formal complaint, even. And was Rosie now referring to it? Had it somehow made its way onto the hospital grapevine?

No. Her expression was far too happy to suggest a staff scandal. He tuned back in to what she was saying.

‘...and now that the bottom line’s been crossed, thanks to the flood of donations, the government’s stepping in to make up any shortfall. It only needs the signature of the Minister of Health and Paddington’s will be officially safe. There won’t be any merger.’

‘That’s good news.’ Thomas reached for the laser pointer in its holder on the frame of the whiteboard. ‘Very good news,’ he added, catching sight of Rosie’s disappointment in his lack of enthusiasm.

‘Mmm.’ Rosie looked unconvinced. ‘Apparently there’s going to be a huge party organised in the near future as soon as everything’s finally signed and sealed but some of the staff are planning to get together at the Frog and Peach over the road on Friday to celebrate early. Guess we’ll see you there?’

She was smiling but didn’t wait for a response. Other people were arriving for the meeting now and there were bound to be far more acceptable reactions from anyone who hadn’t heard the big news of the day. One of the physiotherapists, perhaps. Or Louise, who was the head dietician for Paddington’s. One of the staff psychologists had just come in, too, and Thomas nodded a greeting to the head of the cardiac intensive care unit, who came through the door immediately after her.

Everybody in the team who had—or would be—directly involved in Penelope Craig’s case had been invited to this meeting, including Rosie as one of the nurses that had provided so much of her care over the many admissions the little girl had had. One of the only people missing as the clock clicked onto the start time of eleven a.m. was her surgeon.

Rebecca Scott.

He hadn’t seen her all week, come to think of it. Not that he’d wanted their paths to cross. The shock of their last interaction hadn’t been only due to her lack of professionalism. Or that she had so unexpectedly crossed the boundaries of what their new relationship allowed.

No. Thomas had not been able to shake the echo of that vehement parting shot. That he chose to shut his eyes. To run away. And that he had always made that choice.

Did she really think he was such a coward?

He wasn’t a coward. Had Rebecca had no understanding of how much strength it had taken to deal with what they had gone through? How hard it had been to keep putting one foot in front of the other and keep going?

Obviously not.

No wonder their marriage had fallen apart so easily.

No wonder he had been left feeling such a failure. As a husband and as a father.

But to drag it out again and hurl it in his face like that...

It had been uncalled for. Unhelpful. Insulting, even.

And so, yes, he was angry.

‘Sorry we’re late...’ The door opened as Rebecca rushed in to take a seat at the oval table, followed by her senior registrar.

Thomas could feel himself glaring at the late arrivals.

Rebecca was glaring right back at him. ‘We got held up in Recovery after our last case. I couldn’t leave until I was sure my patient was stable.’

‘Of course you couldn’t,’ someone said. ‘We wouldn’t expect you to.’

Thomas looked away first. Just in time to notice the raised eyebrows and shared glances that went round the table like a Mexican wave.

‘No problem,’ he said evenly. ‘But let’s get started, shall we? We’re all busy people.’

The tension in the room behind him felt like an additional solid presence as he faced the screen and clicked the pointer to bring up his first slide.

‘As you know, we’re here to discuss a case we’re all involved with—that of Penelope Craig, who’s currently an inpatient in our cardiology ward. For those of you who haven’t been so directly involved in the last few years, though, here’s a quick case history.’

The slide was a list of bullet points. A summary of a clinical case reduced to succinct groups of words that made one crisis after another no more than markers on a timeline.

‘The diagnosis of hypoplastic left heart syndrome was made prenatally so Penelope was delivered by C-section and admitted directly to the cardiac intensive care unit. She underwent her first surgery—a Norwood procedure—at thirteen days old.’

He had been in the gallery to watch that surgery. Rebecca had been a cardiothoracic surgical registrar at the time and it had been the most challenging case she’d assisted with. She’d sat up half the previous night as she’d gone over and over the steps of the surgery and Thomas had stayed up with her, trying to make up for any lack of confidence she was feeling. Even as he paused only long enough to take a breath, the flash of another memory came up like a crystal-clear video clip.

He had been in the front row of the gallery, leaning forward as he looked down at the tiny figure on the operating table and the group of gowned and masked people towering over it. Over the loudspeaker, he had heard the consultant surgeon hand over the responsibility of closing the tiny chest to Rebecca. As they changed positions, she had glanced up for a split second and caught Thomas’s gaze through the glass window—as if to reassure herself that he was still there. That he was still with her with every step she took. And he had smiled and nodded, giving her the silent message that he believed in her. That she could do this and do it well.

That he was proud of her...

His voice sounded oddly tight as he continued. ‘A hemi-Fontan procedure was done at six months to create a direct connection between the pulmonary artery and the superior vena cava.’

Rebecca had been allowed to do most of that procedure and she’d been so quietly proud of herself. They’d found a babysitter for Gwen and they’d gone out to celebrate the achievement with dinner and champagne and a long, delicious twirl around the dance floor of their favourite restaurant.

Those ‘date’ nights had always had a particular kind of magic. It didn’t matter how frantic the hours and days before them had been or how tired they were when they set out. Somehow they could always tap back into the connection that had been there from their very first date—that feeling that their love for each other was invincible. That there could never be anyone else that they would want to be with.

The idea that the night after that surgery would be the last ‘date’ night they would ever have would have been unthinkable at the time. As impossible as losing their precious child.

Thomas didn’t actually know if it had been Rebecca who had done the final major surgery to try and improve the function of Penelope’s heart. He’d walked out by then, taking a new job in adult cardiology at a major hospital up north in the wake of that personal tragedy that had torn their lives apart.

He’d run away...like he always did...

Thomas cleared his throat as he rapidly ran through the list of the more recent admissions.

‘April of this year saw a marked deterioration in Penelope’s condition following a series of viral infections. She’s been an inpatient for the last ten weeks and was placed on the waiting list for a heart transplant about two months ago. This last week has seen a further deterioration in her condition and there’s an urgent need for intervention.’

The next slide was a set of statistics about the availability of transplant organs and how many young patients were unlikely to make it as far as receiving a new heart.

The slide after that sombre reminder was a picture of a device that looked like a tiny rubber plunger with a single tube attached to the top and two coming out from the base.

‘For those of you not familiar with these, this is a ventricular assist device—an implantable form of mechanical circulatory support. Parental consent has been given and it’s our plan for Penelope to receive a VAD as soon as theatre time can be arranged.’ Thomas sucked in a longer breath. ‘Dr Scott? Perhaps you’d like to speak about what the surgery involves?’

Using her formal title caused another round of those raised eyebrows and significant glances. Was it his imagination or did this meeting feel really awkward for everybody here?

‘Of course.’ Rebecca’s gaze quickly scanned everybody at the table. It just didn’t shift to include himself. ‘To put it simply, it’s a straightforward bit of plumbing, really. The device is a pump that uses the apex of the left ventricle as the inflow and provides an outflow to the aorta, bypassing the ventricle that’s not functioning well enough.’

Thomas could feel himself frowning. It was fine to describe something in layman’s terms for the members of the team with no medical background, like the dietician and the psychologist, but to his own ears it was simple enough to be almost dismissive. Like describing a donor organ as a spare part?

His anger had settled into his stomach like a heavy stone. No wonder he hadn’t been that interested in eating in the last few days. Was it going to get even worse when he had to work so closely with Rebecca on Penelope’s case? Perhaps the unwanted memories that had ambushed him during his brief presentation had been a warning that it was going to become increasingly difficult to work with his ex-wife. The prospect was more than daunting, especially given that everybody else here seemed to be aware of the tension between them.

David, the cardiac intensive care consultant, was giving him a speculative glance as if he was also having concerns about how this particular combination of the lead carers in this team was going to work. With an effort, Thomas erased the unimpressed lines from his face.

‘Of course it’s not quite that simple in reality,’ Rebecca continued. ‘It’s a big and potentially difficult surgery and there are complications that we have to hope we’ll avoid.’

‘Like what?’ The query came from one of the physiotherapists.

‘Bleeding. Stroke. Infections. Arrhythmias.’ Rebecca was counting off the possible disasters on her fingers. ‘Some might not become apparent immediately, like renal failure and liver dysfunction. And some intraoperative ones, like an air embolism, are things we will certainly do our best to control. I guess what I’m trying to say is that there are risks but everybody agrees that the potential benefits outweigh these risks in Penny’s case.’

Rebecca’s smile was poignant. ‘As most of you know, Penny Craig is one of those patients you just can’t help falling in love with and we’ve known her all her life.

‘I’m sure we’re all going to give this case everything we’ve got.’ Her smile wobbled a fraction. ‘I know I am...’

The murmur of agreement around the table held a note of involvement that was very unusual for a clinical team meeting like this. Heads were nodding solemnly. Rosie was blinking as if she was trying to fight back tears.

For heaven’s sake... Did nobody else understand how destructive it could be to get too involved? Was the staff psychologist taking this atmosphere on board and making a mental note that a lot of people might need some counselling in the not-too-distant future if things didn’t work out the way they all had their hearts set on?

Thomas raised his voice. ‘It’s certainly all about teamwork and it’s to be hoped that we will see a dramatic improvement in this patient’s condition within a very short period of time.’ He glanced down at the laser pointer in his hand, looking for the ‘off’ button. ‘Thank you all for coming. I look forward to working with everybody.’

A buzz of conversation broke out and more than one pager sounded. David came around to his end of the table. ‘I’m being paged to get back upstairs but come and see me when you have a moment? I’d like to go over the postoperative care for Penny in some more detail so I can brief my staff.’

‘Sure. I’ll be heading up there shortly. There’s a four-year-old who was admitted to ICU with severe asthma last night but now they’re querying cardiomyopathy. We might need to transfer her to your patch.’

‘I heard about that. Page me if you need me in on that consult.’

‘Will do.’

The rest of the room was emptying during the brief conversation with David. Everybody had urgent tasks waiting for them elsewhere, including himself. Thomas shut down the programme on his laptop and picked it up, his thoughts already on the case he was about to go and assess. Severe breathlessness and wheezing in children could often be misdiagnosed as asthma or pneumonia until more specific tests such as echocardiography were used to reveal underlying heart disease.

It was a complete surprise to turn and find he was not alone in the room.

Rebecca was standing at the other end of the table.

‘We need to talk,’ she said.

Thomas said nothing. Given how disturbing their last private conversation had been, he wasn’t at all sure he wanted an opportunity that could, in fact, make things worse.

‘I’m sure you agree that we can’t work together with this kind of tension between us. Especially not on a case like this. Everybody’s aware of it and it’s destructive to the whole team.’

He couldn’t argue with that. And, to his shame, he knew he had to take part of the blame. He had no reason to feel angry with Rebecca for anything to do with her involvement in Penelope’s case. He was letting personal baggage affect his relationship with a colleague to such an extent, it was actually difficult to make eye contact with her right now.

He looked down at the laptop in his hands.

‘So what do you suggest? That we call in a different cardiologist? In case you hadn’t noticed, they’ve been short-staffed around here ever since the threat of the merger got real. That’s why I agreed to take on a permanent position again.’

A brief upwards glance showed that Rebecca’s gaze was on him. Steady and unrelenting. He held her gaze for a heartbeat. And then another as those dark eyes across the length of the table merged with that flash of memory he’d had during his presentation—when they’d been looking up at him for reassurance that she had his support when she’d been facing one of her biggest challenges.

A different lifetime.

One in which giving and receiving that kind of reassurance and support had been as automatic as breathing. When success for either of them had created a shared pride so huge it could make it hard to catch a breath and when failure was turned into a learning experience that could only make you a better person. A lifetime that had been iced with so much laughter.

So much love...

It had been a long time since that loss had kicked him quite this hard. A wave of sadness blurred the edges of any anger he still had.

‘That’s not what I’m suggesting,’ Rebecca said quietly. ‘Penny deserves the best care available and, on either side of the actual surgery, you are the person who can provide that.’

‘And you are the person who can provide the best surgical care,’ he responded. ‘She deserves that, too.’ He closed his eyes in a slow blink and then met her gaze again. ‘So what is it that you are suggesting?’

‘That we talk. Not here,’ she added quickly. ‘Somewhere more...’ She cleared her throat. ‘Somewhere else.’

Had she been going to suggest somewhere more private? Like the house they’d lived in with Gwen that Rebecca had refused to sell?

He couldn’t do that. What if she still had all those pictures on the walls? That old basket with the toys in it, even?

‘I’m going for a walk after work,’ Rebecca said quietly. ‘Through Regent’s Park and over to Primrose Hill. It’s a gorgeous day. Why don’t you come with me?’

A walk. In a public place. Enough space that nobody would be able to overhear anything that might be said and the ability to walk away if it proved impossible to find common ground without this horrible tension.

Except they had to find that common ground, didn’t they, if they were going to work together?

If they couldn’t, Thomas would have to add a failure to remain professional to the list of his other shortcomings and this one wouldn’t be private—it would be fodder for gossip and damaging for both their careers.

And his career was all he had left now.

‘Fine.’ He nodded. ‘Page me when you’re done for the day. I’ll be here.’

* * *

Out of one meeting and straight into another.

Rebecca only had time to duck into her office and grab a folder from her desk before heading down to the coffee shop on the ground floor where the committee members in charge of organising the Teddy Bears’ Picnic would be waiting for her.

The countdown was on for the annual event that Rebecca had been instrumental in setting up four years ago and this one promised to be the biggest and best yet.

The committee president, a mother of a child with cystic fibrosis who had received a double lung transplant six years ago, waved excitedly at Rebecca and she weaved her way through the busy café opposite the pharmacy on the ground floor.

‘We had to start without you, I’m afraid.’

‘No problem, Janice. I’m so sorry I’m late.’ It seemed to be becoming the theme of her day today, but at least she didn’t have anyone glaring at her. Janice was beaming, in fact.

‘I’ve got such good news. Your suggestion to contact the president of the World Transplant Games Federation really paid off. We’re going to have trouble choosing which inspirational speakers we want the most.’

‘Oh? That’s fantastic.’ Rebecca smiled up at the young waitress taking orders. ‘I’ll have a flat white, please. And one of your gorgeous savoury muffins.’ The way her day was shaping up, it was highly likely to be the only lunch she would get.

‘We’ve got an offer from a man called Jeremy Gibson. He got a liver transplant when he was in his early thirties and had three young children. He’s competed in the games for four years now and, last year, he led a sponsored hike in the Himalayas to raise awareness for organ donation and advertise how successful it can be.’

Rebecca nodded but she wasn’t quite focused on this new meeting yet. The way Thomas had looked at her—after he’d asked if she wanted to call in a new cardiologist for Penny’s case...

The tension had still been there. That undercurrent of anger that she knew had been caused by her telling him that he always ran away was still there. But there’d been something else, as well. A sadness that had made her want to walk around the edge of that table and simply put her arms around him.

To tell him how sorry she was.

For everything.

That was a bit of a shock, all by itself. She was over the breakup of her marriage.

She was over Thomas.

Who, in their right mind, would choose to be with someone who simply wasn’t there when the going got too rough?

‘And then there’s Helena Adams,’ Janice continued. ‘A double lung recipient who’s a champion skier and...’ She consulted a notepad on the table in front of her. ‘And Connor O’Brien—a young heart transplant recipient who ran in the London Marathon last year.’

‘They all sound amazing,’ Rebecca said.

‘Maybe they could all come,’ their treasurer suggested. ‘They don’t all have to speak. They could just mingle and join in some of the fun and chat to parents and kids. And the press, of course. We’re going to get way more coverage this year, what with the threat to Paddington’s already getting so much publicity.’

‘We’ve got three television crews coming,’ the secretary added. ‘We’re going international, apparently.’ She fanned her face. ‘This is all getting so much bigger than we ever thought it would.’

‘Okay.’ Janice’s deep breath was audible. ‘Let’s get on with everything on the agenda. We’ve got a lot to get through. Has the bouncy castle been booked?’

‘Yes. It’s huge. And it’s got turrets and everything. I’ve got a picture here...’

‘Oh, it’s perfect,’ someone said. ‘And how appropriate, given that Paddington’s nickname is “the Castle”?’

An old redbrick Victorian building, Paddington Children’s Hospital did indeed have its own turrets—the largest of which was a distinctive slate-roofed dome that loomed above the reception area of the main entrance.

‘What’s more important is to decide where it’s going to go. I’m not sure the layout worked as well as it could last year and we’ve got so many extra things this time. The zoo has offered to organise and run pony rides.’ Janice looked around the table. ‘I know the London Zoo is one of our biggest sponsors and that’s why we go over the road to Primrose Hill but is it going to be big enough? Do we need to consider a shift to part of Regent’s Park?’

‘I’m going to go there this evening,’ Rebecca told them. ‘I’ll take the draft plan for the layout with me and walk it out but I think it’ll be fine. We had tons of extra space last year and it was lovely to be on top of the hill and see everything that was going on. Some of the photos were fabulous, weren’t they?’

She caught her lip between her teeth, her thoughts wandering again as the other committee members reminisced about last year’s success. Should she have told Thomas the reason she was planning that walk in the park after work today?

No. If he’d known it had anything to do with the children and families of both donors and recipients of transplanted organs, he would have run a mile.

They really needed to talk if they were going to be able to work together and he didn’t need to know the real reason she was there, did he? It was summer and the evenings were long. She could always stay later than him and sit on the top of the hill with the plan in her hands and make any notes she needed for changes.

It was important that they spent this time together. Before things got any more difficult between them.

And she was looking forward to it. Kind of. In a purely professional sense, of course. She’d feel better when she’d had the chance to apologise for that verbal attack. Thomas hadn’t deserved that. She knew he was doing his best in the only way he knew how. That he had probably been doing that all along. It was just so sad that he couldn’t see that he’d chosen such a wrong path.

That he, above everybody else, was suffering more because of it.

In retrospect, however, there was another reason why inviting Thomas to share this walk might have been a bad idea. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time that a walk up Primrose Hill was an echo of their very first date.

Maybe he wouldn’t remember. It wouldn’t matter if he did. Just breathing the same air as Thomas was an echo of so very many things and, somehow, they had to find a way to deal with that.


CHAPTER THREE (#u5be76022-c19d-53bb-b422-f0dea93878b1)

THE WARMTH OF the summer’s evening did not seem to be doing much to thaw the chill that surrounded Thomas and Rebecca like an air-conditioned bubble.

The virtual silence for the brisk walk to Regent’s Park had been largely disguised by the sounds of the busy city streets but it became increasingly obvious as they followed a path into the vast stretch of green space.

‘Thanks for agreeing to come,’ Rebecca offered, finally.

‘As you said, we need to find a way we can work together. Without letting our personal baggage interfere in any way with patient care.’

It sounded as though Thomas had rehearsed that little speech. Maybe it had been something he’d said to himself more than once today. Because he’d been arguing with himself about whether or not he could bear to spend any time with her?

Rebecca took a deep breath and did her best not to let it out as a sigh. He was here, walking beside her, so that was a good start. Maybe it was too soon to open the can of worms that was their ‘personal baggage.’ If Thomas could actually relax a fraction, it could make this a whole lot easier. And who wouldn’t relax on a walk like this?

The boat lake beside them was a popular place to be on such a warm, sunny evening. It was crowded with boats—classic wooden rowing boats and the bright blue and yellow paddle boats. The grassy banks were dotted with the rugs and folding chairs of groups of families and friends who were preparing for a picnic meal. There were dogs chasing balls and children playing games on the shore of the lake.

And there were ducks.

Of course there were ducks. How many times had she and Thomas come here with Gwen on those precious days when she wasn’t with her caregiver or at nursery school? They’d started bringing her here to feed the ducks way before she was old enough to walk or throw a crust of bread.

Not that she was about to remind Thomas of those times. Or admit that she still automatically put crusts of bread into a bag in the freezer until it was so full it would remind her that she never had the time or motivation to feed ducks any more. No one seeing them would ever guess at the kind of shared history they had. They would see the tall man with his briefcase in his hand and his companion with the strap of her laptop case over her shoulder and assume that they were work colleagues who happened to be sharing a walk home at the end of their day.

Exactly the space they were in, thanks to the boundaries that had been put firmly in place from the moment Thomas had set foot in Paddington’s again.

Except that Thomas was smiling. Almost. He had his hand up to shield his eyes as he took in the scene of the boating activity on the lake and his lips were definitely not in a straight line.

His breath came out in an audible huff that could have been suppressed laughter.

‘Nobody’s swimming today,’ he murmured.

It wasn’t a lake that anybody swam in. Unless they were unfortunate enough to fall out of a boat, of course.

Like she had that day...

Good grief. She had deliberately avoided opening that can of worms labelled ‘shared memories’ but Thomas hadn’t even hesitated.

Okay, it was funny in retrospect but it hadn’t been at the time. Thomas had been inspired by the romantic image of a date that involved rowing his girlfriend around a pretty lake and Rebecca had been dressed for the occasion in a floaty summer dress and a wide-brimmed straw sunhat.

It had been a gloriously sunny day but there’d been a decent breeze. Enough to catch her hat and send it sailing away to float on the water. Thomas had done his best to row close enough for her to lean out of the boat and retrieve the hat but he hadn’t been quite close enough. And she’d leaned just a little too far.

The water had been shallow enough to stand up in but she’d been completely soaked and the filmy dress had been clinging to her body and transparent enough to make her underwear obvious. The shock of the dunking had given way to helpless laughter and then to something very different when she’d seen the look in Thomas’s eyes. Getting out of those wet clothes and into a hot bath hadn’t been the real reason they couldn’t get home fast enough.

And now, with Thomas pulling that memory out to share, Rebecca had the sensation that shutters had been lifted. There was a glint in his eyes that made her feel as if she’d stepped back in time.

As if everything they’d had together was still there—just waiting to have life breathed into it again.

It was the last thing Rebecca had expected to feel. It was too much. It wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to go anywhere near that kind of space in her head or her heart and that made it...what...terrifying?

She had to break that eye contact. To push that memory back where it belonged—firmly in the past.

‘Nobody sensible would,’ she heard herself saying. ‘But we all make mistakes, don’t we?’

She hadn’t looked away fast enough to miss the way that glint in his eyes got extinguished and her words hung in the air as they walked on, taking on a whole new meaning. That the mistake that had been made encompassed their whole relationship?

The soft evening air began to feel increasingly thick with the growing tension. This was her fault, Rebecca realised. She’d had the opportunity to break the ice and make things far more comfortable between them and she’d ruined it because she’d backed off so decisively. Maybe it was up to her to find another way to defuse the tension. At least she was no stranger to tackling difficult subjects with her patients and their families.

She had learned it was best to start in a safe place and not to jump in the deep end as Thomas had—perhaps—inadvertently done.

‘I did that consult you requested on your new patient this afternoon. Tegan Mitchell? The thirteen-year-old with aortic stenosis?’

‘Ah...good.’ There was a note of relief in his voice as he responded to stepping onto safe, professional ground. ‘What did you think?’

‘Classic presentation. Even my junior house surgeon could hear the ejection click after the first heart sound and the ejection murmur. It was the first time she’d come across an example of how the murmur increases with squatting and decreases with standing. She’s got some impressive oedema in her legs and feet, too.’ Rebecca’s lips curled into a small smile as she glanced up at Thomas. ‘Tegan, that is, not my house surgeon—her legs are fine.’

Thomas didn’t smile at her tongue-in-cheek clarification. ‘I’ve got Tegan booked for an echo tomorrow morning. We’ve started medication to get her heart failure under control but I think she’s a good candidate for valve replacement surgery, yes?’

That tension hadn’t been defused enough to allow for a joke, obviously. Rebecca nodded. ‘Absolutely.’

He didn’t see her nod because he had turned his head as the path forked.

‘Do you want to go through Queen Mary’s Garden?’

‘Why not? It’ll be gorgeous with the roses in full bloom.’

Thomas took the lead through the ornate gates and chose a path between gardens with immaculately trimmed hedges surrounding waves of colour. Rebecca inhaled the heady scent of old-fashioned roses but Thomas didn’t seem at all distracted by the beauty around them.

‘How’s your theatre list looking for later this week?’





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